Where's my mind?
by Yukimy Cainz Airay de Belli
Summary: A healthy mind in a healthy body. And you could think that a healthy heart comes along. Sadly, you're wrong.


**Where's my mind?**

**Rate: **T

**Words: **Almost 1390

**Warnings: **I do not own Kingdom Hearts, or the characters. English is not my mother language, so any error is unintended, and you're welcome to tell me.

**A/N: **For the XemSaï-FC Valentine's Contest in dA. This is published in dA too, under the user YACdB; that's me.

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_If I had a world of my own, every will be nonsense._

_Nothing will be what it is._

_Because everything will be what it isn't._

Saint Valentine's Day.

How sweet it sounds when you say it, no? Almost as sweet as the silent promise of chocolate and confessions of love from many women. If only you were still human.

Now, it's just one of the many empty words that surround you. To you, this day only serves one purpose; to help you with your little plan of creating Kingdom Hearts. You have achieved the knowledge that the Heartless are weaker than any other day, and that killing them, no matter the weapon, frees their hearts. It's a day without resting.

It confuses you why, why exactly this day. How many years have you been searching for that answer? 10? 20? 50? And still you have no clue. Maybe it has to do with the man, the saint involved in the name of the day, or maybe it's just a coincidence. But what matters is that not having the answer irritates you, don't?

And you don't like that. You detest that, because it enrages you, you want to throw things and break something, someone. It goes against all what you say. It forces en emotion out of your chest.

So you send everybody out to kill as many Heartless as they can, and you can do more research in peace and silent, not even wanting the help of Vexen or Zexion. You stay at your big castle, all alone, while all your subordinates go to get all those hearts and at the same time you betray the alleged trust that your old companions profess to you.

And again, like every year, you found nothing and the rest of the Organization is tired, some of them wounded. Nobody talks, nobody wants to hear, and the Grey Area is silent as a tomb. Sitting against the glass, a little cut on his cheek. That's the first detail that drags your attention.

A thin line of dark dry blood down his skin.

It makes you remember, doesn't?

You enter the room with your usual peace, calm and calculated steps. You call him, with the same excuse of almost every day.

-Saïx, we need to discuss tomorrow's assignments.

He gets up and you can see that he's putting too much weight in his left leg. A wound on the right one, perhaps?

-Of course, Lord Xemnas –and almost in an imperceptible way, his voice sounds raspy. He has been screaming.

And you want to break his neck right there. But you turn around without a word.

There's no need for a rush, you both know that it'll happen anyway. In the way to your room, you start to remember. A young boy, almost a kid, almost an adult, your mind confuses itself for a moment, a beach is replaced with a garden, and the sea becomes the hair of the young boy in the night.

You run your fingers through some strands, he protests that the age doesn't matters, that what counts is the maturity, that you're pulling too hard. And he growls when you squeeze him between your own body and the door, caressing his neck.

_Tell me, how much did you scream?_

In your memory, the boy keeps talking, a lot. At some point, you stopped listening to him, your attention remarks the way his lips move, the light on his eyes, how he lets out a little cry of pain. He's lying on your bed, almost naked, and you're running a finger down the injury on his leg. The bandage looks bad; he should change it before it gets infected.

_Tell me, how much did it hurt?_

You remember all the women that used to approach you on Valentine's Day. They're more like dolls, like mannequins, dressed, but they have no face, no hair, no eyes, and their skin as a white canvas where you could draw any fantasy of yours.

And you draw two golden eyes (or were they blue? Maybe they were blue, yeah, they were blue in the past, and you used to paint them blue), you think a light skin color, long blue hair (it was shorter, wasn't it?) and it's a perfect face. And you hate it. It can't be perfect, it can't. So you hurt that face again.

You kiss him, for the first time in a long night. You see it again, his wounded cheek.

It makes you remember.

_Your little and cold crime._

_He couldn't be perfect._

The next minutes are pure chaos, a mixture of thoughts and actions that make you both sweat and curse under your breath. He's pinning you down to the bed, you're getting lost on all his heat and how his body fits yours in such a way that it should be the edge of the most impure glory of the carnal desire.

_Will you still say those words to me after seeing what I have become?_

You can't stop thinking, can't stop noticing how his ribcage moves almost in a exaggerate way, how he can't scream and that's why he's burying his nails so deep on your chest. Like if something waited for him inside of it.

In the past, there was. But he didn't want it (he didn't, or he couldn't get it?). Now there's nothing, and both of you are searching for something that you can't reach.

You're waiting for the answer to appear someday. But for that, you need a heart.

Saïx is waiting for you to show him again that smile of that day in the garden, before the darkness. But for that, you need a heart. _Oh, this?_ The boy replied when you asked about that little box in his hands.

_Tonight, I'll give it to someone special._

But that night never came.

What a selfish being you are. Ruining a complete world, not only one, ruining thousand hearts, and just because of jealousy. I guess you never understood. You were so busy trying to understand the heart, that you forgot the easiest way, trying to understand yours in first place.

And you still can't get over that envy of yours. You ruined him; you keep hurting him, so everybody and specially that _someone special_ can see how he belongs only to you. He's yours to play, use and abuse, and you think that you gained that right when you tamed him. Like if he was an animal.

Why can't you see that he never needed to be tamed?

Oh, true, you're blind. I guess that dirty yellow light from Kingdom Hearts messed up your sight.

He's bleeding again, all his face covered in red. The scar on his face, open one more time, fresh as the first time. You blink, and there's no more blood, only a guilty pleasure on his face and a strange light in his eyes.

It's, after all, a typical Valentine's Day.

But both know that it's not gonna end here. Now that you're done, you'll rest for a minute, and you'll get up and look out the window. Saïx is going to stare at you, his hand wanting to reach you, but you put yourself too far, too deep, and he doesn't have the courage to do the same.

He never did, so he's going to stare at you from that distance, he's going to try to cover himself with what you left from his clothes, and when leaving, he's going to try to say something, the same words that are stuck on his throat from years ago, and he's going to leave.

He's going to leave you all alone, with your filthy and guilty thoughts, to think about what position you're gonna force on him next time that you want to get your frustrations out. At least, that what he thinks he's doing when he leaves your room.

You're such a mess. Why did you choose such time to have such feelings, Xemnas? You knew Nobodies cannot handle strong feelings, and that it's on their nature try to destroy them, for his own sake. A Nobody trying to bear something like that is doomed to madness.

Really, it sucks to be your conscience, Xemnas.

But more hurts to be Saïx.

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_**~Acta est fabula.**_


End file.
